In the Shadows

The Old Stuff

That final bell rings

Signaling the end of monotony

And beginning the skin-turning ebony

Beneath the equator�s lamp.

Her crisp body rhythmically promenades

To the Jamaican steel drum band

Amidst the ocean, far from land

Beneath the hand-painted canvas.

Such dance encouraged a night of rest.

Dreams of what she lacked: passion.

Dreaming to be held tight with compassion.

But in her slumber she saw the sky crumble.

She awoke to what would be the sunrise

But through the glass she saw tears,

Tears as numerous as her fears.

Stationary running from the pensive light.

Hiding behind the beauty of the open sea

Her loneliness peered around the wall

She caught a glimpse, enough to make her fall,

Collapsing into the arms of a dream.

In her blackened, exhausted slumber

The equatorial heat evaporates her veins

And her solitude locks tight the chains

Around her heart, swollen in pain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

4/14/04  Inspired by my cruise...

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